Russian Roulette
by KendraPendragon
Summary: Everyone thought he was dead. But now he's back, sending a message that forces Molly to make a decision that may cost her life: Care for a game of Russian Roulette? Will Molly play in order to save the one she loves?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: None of Sherlock is mine. You know who it belongs to, starting wir SACD, to Moffat and Gattis and BBC, and so on...

A/N: So, this is my first attempt to add something to this huge Sherlock-fandom. Actually I never felt so unsure about posting something. There are so, so many amazing fics out here and I wouldn't count mine as one of them. English is not my first language, so forgive any mistakes I made. I re-read everything and spotted all of them, but if you still find something, let me know. Help is always appreciated. :)

~oOo~

Molly was typing away on her computer, entering the report of her recent autopsy. She tried very hard to block out any thoughts about Sherlock, who had waltzed in in is usual manner a couple of hours ago, apparently only to shower her with his typical unkind and hurtful remarks. They had a huge argument and in the end Molly had kicked him out of the morgue.

After all those years she had finally mastered to do talk back to him and Molly was quite proud of herself, ignoring the part of her heart that wanted to run after him and apologize for everything. Maybe she was finally able to block this part out for good now. Even though she loved him – if possible, even more since he faked his own death in order to protect his friends – reason had finally kicked in and told her that she had to stand up to him if she ever wanted his respect. Sure, he respected her professional input but Molly knew that he didn't respect her as a person, as the woman who was in love with him. Of course he knew. She knew that he knew. Still, she had never said it, seeming a pointless thing to do. It was like pointing out that his eyes were blue or that he looked damn sexy in that coat of his.

Molly also knew that he didn't return her feelings. She had come to terms with it. She didn't hope anymore. And, to her own surprise, it had been a relief when she finally let go of that hope. It was so much easier to just love him, without expecting, hoping that he would look at her differently, that he would finally see the real Molly that was buried deep under self-consciousness and loneliness.

Molly was fine with the way it was between them now. Yeah, all right, she wouldn't call herself 'happy'. But who in this world is, really?

Her mobile beeped next to her on the desk and her flying fingers stopped. She took it in her hands and looked at the display. A text from an unknown number. She clicked on the little envelope.

_Care for a little game of Russian Roulette?_

Wrong number, obviously. What a horrible message. She just didn't get some people's humor. Who on earth would text that to a friend?

Molly started typing again, not caring for texting back, when it beeped again. She let out an unnerved sigh and picked up her phone.

This time, it was an MMS. It took a few seconds for her old mobile to open up the file. She really should get a new one. Wasn't there a great offer on…

Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the picture popped up. Molly gasped.

_Sherlock. _

_Face bruised. _

_Blood running down his forehead. _

_Handcuffed. _

_Blue eyes glaring into the camera._

Molly's heart forgot how to beat. Then she read the text beneath the picture.

_Come play, Molly._ We're here. _You know where_ – _Jim_

Molly shot up from her chair. She didn't even hear how it crashed loudly to the floor. All her senses were blocked. A mental image of soft black eyes appeared in front of her. A warm smile. A happy laugh…Jim from IT…No, it had been a lie. There had been no Jim. Only a disguise…

_Moriarty._

The name etched through her brain down to her heart. It had hurt so much to find out this nice guy was a criminal mastermind who had only played with her in the most degrading way possible. And now he had come back. She had thought he was dead. All of them thought! How was this possible?

Her eyes could see again and looked down at the hurt Sherlock.

_Sherlock!_

_- Come play, Molly._ _You know where._

Yes, she knew. He had shown her the room once and she recognized the colorful wires in the corner of the picture. She had to go help him!

The panic that had slowed down her senses suddenly vanished from her body. Something inside her made 'click' and her mind was clear. Molly Hooper made a very dangerous decision.

She texted John and Lestrade on her way to the hospital's server room. She thought about alarming her colleagues, but this would only stir a panic. She needed to buy time until Lestrade arrived. And she would have to do it on her own.

One last breath and a silent prayer, then she shut her phone off, slid it into the pocket of her lab coat and opened the door to the server room.

The small, square room was well lit. High towers were lined up in four rows, containing the servers of the hospital, it's virtual heart. The room was cold and carpeted in black. Molly didn't notice any of it. Her whole being was focused on the two men in front of her. As she looked into those black eyes again, she was shocked how they had changed. There was nothing left of the gentleness, the kindness that they had contained. Now, there was only hatred and a hint of madness in them.

"Ah, Molly! I knew you didn't forget our little snogging place."

Moriarty chuckled as he saw her blush. She slowly walked to them, her eyes wide, but her heart beating suprisingly slow.

She looked at Moriarty one more second, scanning if there was acute danger, then she looked down at Sherlock. He was handcuffed to one of the servers in a sitting position, the stream of blood now running past his cheek. His eyes glared angrily at her.

"Are you all right, Sherlock?" she asked, her voice shaky.

"No, I'm not all right, Molly. Instead of calling the police you panicked as predicted and walked right into a more than obvious trap. Why didn't you just think, woman?!"

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head in anger.

"I wanted to help you!" she defended herself, smart enough not to point out that she _did_ think of that.

"Oh, splendid! Go ahead, then! Overwhelm Moriarty and free me!"

Moriarty laughed heartily while Molly blushed again.

"You know, he has a point. It was quite stupid to just come down here, sweetie. But that's just how you are, isn't it? When your heart tells you to save the man you love, you follow. Poor, poor girl."

He shook his head sympathetically with a crooked smile on his face. Then he drew a weapon out of his black suit and pointed it at her.

"I always knew Sherlock will be the death of you."

Molly's eyes widened as she saw the devlish expression on his face. He pulled the trigger and Molly flinched, waiting for the 'bang'. But only a 'click' was heard. Moriarty started laughing again and Molly opened her eyes.

"Oh Molly! Don't you know me at all? No, of course not!" He chuckled. "You only know Jim from IT, don't ya?"

From one second to another, he had changed back into Jim. Voice, posture, eyes, everything. He was brilliant in this, Molly thought and couldn't believe that she would think something like this with a gun pointed at her head.

Moriarty returned to the surface and he reached into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out a single bullet.

"Told you we were to play. You know what Russian roulette is?"

Molly slowly nodded and the black-haired man smiled approvingly. He flipped open the revolver, inserting the bullet before spinning the little drum and flipping it shut. With an evil smirk, he held it out to her.

"You go first, love."

She looked down at the revolver, then back at Moriarty, a question mark plastered on her face.

"Why on earth do you think I would play with you?"

Jim looked at her for a second, then down on Sherlock.

"Really?" He asked him in a shrill voice and Sherlock rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"You know how she is", the sitting man retorted annoyed.

"Yeah, sure. But that's just weak, even for her!"

"It's the adrenaline."

"Gosh!" Moriarty shouted angrily, hands flying through the air. "Why are ordinary people so stupid?!"

"Exactly", Sherlock agreed which made Moriarty laugh again.

Molly was shocked how fast his mood changed.

Moriarty raised the gun again, pointing at her.

"You will play with me, 'dear Molly', because if you don't, I will play with Sherlock!"

The meaning behind his words sunk into her and her heartbeat accelerated. Still, she couldn't understand.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked breathlessly.

"Because I once promised our beloved Sherlock that I would burn his heart out", he chirped, grinning evilly again.

Molly looked from Moriarty to Sherlock and back. Her brows furrowed while she weighed his words.

"Sherlock doesn't care for me in that way."

Moriarty tilted his head.

"That's what he told me. But I'd like to find out for myself."

He waited for Molly to move, still holding the gun out to her. When she didn't, Moriarty rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Fine, I'll play with Sherlock, then…" he said in a bored tone and leveled the gun down at him. The two men looked at each other and Molly saw how Moriarty's finger crooked.

"NO!"

Adrenaline was pumping through her veins and her body started shaking. For a split second she thought he would die. For a split second she thought she would lose him forever. She realized this was not an option. Her lonely world would be unbearable without him.

But the revolver didn't shoot, the trigger only hitting air. Sherlock was still alive.

So this is how it goes, she thought. It was either him or her. Well, the choice was quite simple, wasn't it?

Molly looked down on Sherlock, taking in every detail of his lovely features. He was so beautiful. To her, nothing in this world was more beautiful than him. Even the clear summer sky couldn't match the beauty of his eyes, the sunrise couldn't match the beauty of his smile. Without him, the world would be a much darker place. At least, to her.

The decision was easy. It surprised her how willingly she made it. She didn't panic, no self-preserving instinct kicked in. It felt like she had just waited to sacrifice herself for him. If there is a reason why people are in this world, why shouldn't this be hers? It wasn't the worst of fates, she thought. And smiled. Facing death, she managed to smile at him. A smile not filled with regret or fear. Just love. Love for the brilliant consulting detective, who had never loved her back. It didn't matter.

Sherlock's face was an emotionless mask, but his neck stiffened as he understood the meaning of her smile.

A single tear fell from her eyes before she averted her eyes from his to face Moriarty.

"I believe it's my turn", she said, her voice calm and steady.

Moriarty's smile vanished for a second before it returned even wider.

"See, I told you she would play, Sherlock. Little Molly has more strength in her than you think."

Very pleased, Moriarty handed her the gun. Molly took it, let it dangle next to her thigh. She felt the weight of the weapon, the metal cool in her hand. She was holding death.

Finally, her heart wanted to beat faster, wanted to waken her instinct to protect her own life, but she wouldn't let it. Molly needed to be stronger than her body now. She needed to be strong for him.

"Molly!" Sherlock said in the exact same warning tone he had used the day when she told him that he looked sad, shortly before his fall. His deep voice echoed through her body. _Beautiful_, she thought.

"When I lose, you will let him go" she said, ignoring Sherlock.

"Of course, Darling" Moriarty replied, grinning, obviously having fun.

"Cross your heart?" Molly whispered and his smile vanished.

_For a fleeting second, Molly and Jim were back on her couch on that rainy sunday. He held her close, blanket around both of them, wrapped in each others warmth. His lips were close to her ear when he whispered those words to her, making her tell him all her stupid little secrets._

_Never had she told anyone those intimate things, feeling all comfortable with it. She had felt comfortable with him. It had been a lie...hadn't it?_

"And hope to die" he added after a few seconds, the smile returning.

Molly swallowed hard as the memory made her eyes water again. She had really cared for that Jim on her couch.

"Never, never tell a lie" Molly finished in a high pitched whisper, stumbling over her breath.

"Take a breath. Take it deep. Calm yourself" Moriarty whispered in a soothing way, trying to prepare her for the game. Molly did as instructed, her lips slighty parted when she let the air out of her lungs.

"Take the gun and count to three", Moriarty grinned. "Close your eyes. Sometimes it helps."

Molly closed her eyes, feeling sweat spreading on her back and her forehead. Her body tried to protest, to overrule her mind. She wouldn't give in.

Her heartbeat was hurtful, her chest rose and fell heavily. The grip around the revolver tightened. It was shaking in her hand.

"One..." Molly's sweet voice echoed through the room.

"No! Molly, stop! Enough, Moriarty! This is about you and me!"

Sherlock fidgeted with his handcuffs, trying to free himself.

"Don't interrupt her! God, you're so rude!" Moriarty shouted angrily. He looked down at him, saw how he struggled and grinned again.

"Oh, it will be sweet pain, Sherlock. You'll see. When the bullet races through her brain, her body relaxing immediately...crashing to the floor...It's like an overdose. Burning through your veins...and through your heart."

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked angrily.

"Your heart!" Moriarty shouted maniacal.

"I don't love her!"

Moriarty's laugh echoed hurtfully through Molly's ears.

"But I love him. Does that count?"

Both of the men turned their heads in her direction. Moriarty straightened.

"Yes. It's a nice bonus."

"Molly, run! You have the gun" Sherlock shouted angrily.

She shook her head.

"No. He will kill you."

"Smart girl", Moriarty chuckled.

Sherlock knocked his head into the wires and closed his eyes.

"Love is not an advantage. Love makes you weak" he said, frustrated.

"No", Molly replied in a beaming voice.

Sherlock turned his head and their eyes locked. Him looking at her calmed her down in a way she didn't understand. She felt strong enough now. Strong enough to let go.

"Love gives you strength to protect the ones you love."

Without hesitation she pressed the revolver to her head. Her finger crooked.

"MOLLYYYY!"

_BANG!_

~oOo~

A/N: So, what do you think? Feedback would be really appreciated. Thanks to all. :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Wow! Thank you so much for all your reviews! I am so happy and honored! Thanks to Doctor WTF, ThorouglySherlocked, ThinksInWords (dein Deutsch ist fehlerfrei! Und du hast recht mit "tiping". Werde es aendern!:)), MorbidbyDefault, animefan0000012345, AdaYuki, Rocking the Redhead, Colorful Magic, videogamelover221, Angleico3156789, CreamCrop, SammyKatz and UnicornLady and Guests for taking the time to leave a comment. :)  
With that being said, I feel very bad. But this is a Drama, after all, so...yeah. If you do like Happy Endings, you should probably stop reading right here...:(  
If some of you would still like to read this, I would recommend listening to "An End, once and for all" from the Mass Effect 3 soundtrack. This is what I listened to while writing this.

~oOOo~

The door to the server room burst open and Lestrade, John and other police officers poured into the room. Molly needed a second to realize that, the revolver's 'Click' still echoing through her head. It didn't shoot. She was still alive.

"Hands up, Moriarty!" Greg shouted behind her and Molly flinched. While he and John stepped next to her, Molly lowered the gun and looked at it. She was still alive...

"Oooh, bugger! Our game is ruined! But I have to give you credit for surprising me, Molly. You actually were smart enough to get help before coming. I'm impressed, which almost never happens!"

Moriarty's amused voice echoed through the room and caught Molly's attention. She looked up at him. He had his hands raised in defeat and a crooked smile on his face. Something in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

"Are you all right, Sherlock?" John asked, glancing down at his friend while pointing his Browning at Moriarty.

Molly looked down and found him staring at her in disbelief. She felt her cheeks getting warmer and looked back at Moriarty, who had witnessed their little exchange.

"You felt it, didn't you?" the well-dressed villain asked in a hushed voice, looking down at Sherlock.

"Painful, isn't it? It was just a glimpse of what is waiting for you, honey. I made the mistake of underestimating her once. Do you really think I make the same mistake twice? You know me better than that, don't you?"

"Just shoot him!" Sherlock shouted angrily.

"Tststs. Sherlock, you know police protocol. Never shoot an unarmed man."

Moriarty's voice was a cooing whisper. The dark-haired men looked at each other, Sherlock's face an emotionless mask, Moriarty's face a promising smile.

"Get on the floor, face down!" Detective Inspector Lestrade commanded with an intimidating voice.

Moriarty laughed.

"I don't think so."

Molly tensed as his eyes fixed on her, his black orbs scarier than ever.

"Sweet, sweet Molly. Your eyes so full of fear. Don't be afraid, dear. You'll be free soon. Can you feel it? Our story's almost at its end. But you have to write the final part for us, love. Tell me how the story ends."

His voice was so soft and comforting but his words made her heart ache. It wasn't over and her eyes hurried to the sitting Sherlock, whose body was just as tense as her own. Again, their eyes locked and Molly couldn't breathe. He was still in danger. Moriarty could still kill him. She didn't know how, but she believed him.

She wouldn't let that happen! She would do everything to save him!

"Exactly as I thought" Moriarty hissed, clear amusement in his voice. Then his face turned into that evil, crazy grimace again and everything around Molly slowed down.

He didn't even try to take cover as he pulled another gun out of his jacket.

His smile didn't vanish when he looked down at Sherlock.

He didn't flinch as the first shot hit him in the chest.

His arm didn't fall as the second bullet hit him in the shoulder, still lowering down to the man she loved.

Pure, blank panic gripped her heart and prevented it from beating. Every thought was wiped away from her mind. Everyone except one:

Save Sherlock!

Molly didn't know how, but suddenly she was next to him on the floor, wrapping her arms around him protectively.

She didn't even try to take cover.

She didn't flinch as the first shot hit her in the back.

She didn't scream as the second bullet bit in her lower back, smashing her spine.

Her arms didn't let go of him.

Another shot was heard, followed by a thud. Without looking up, Molly knew she had won. Moriarty was dead. And Sherlock was alive.

As silence fell upon the room, something in Molly came to rest. She opened her eyes and looked down at him. His eyes were huge, his lips parted. She managed a smile while intense pain shot through her upper body.

"Are you all right?" she whispered. Her fingers were buried in his hair and she allowed herself to let his curls run through her fingers.

She felt how life was pouring out of her, but she didn't care. While her heartbeat began to stutter, she could feel his fast and strong against her chest. This was all that counted.

"Molly…" Sherlock whispered, his voice shaking and Molly smiled again. She couldn't feel her legs anymore and it was getting harder to hold herself up. All her strength was focused on her fingers, running through his hair over and over again. So long had she waited to do that. It felt even better than she had imagined it in her most secret dreams.

"I won, Sherlock."

Tears blurred her vision and fell from her eyes. Finally, she couldn't keep her hands up anymore. They limply fell on his shoulders and to her sides, a painful moan escaping her lips. Her head was spinning and she couldn't focus her vision. This was goodbye, she realized.

With all the strength left in her, she rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes, more tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Molly!" Sherlock pressed, fidgeting with his handcuffs. "Molly!"

"Sherlock…"

It felt so right that his name was the last thing she would ever say. It felt right that she would die with his heartbeat against her chest, wrapped in his warmth and breathing in his scent. She felt no regret. Even the pain had stopped. All she felt was peace. And love. So much love…

As Molly let out her last breath and relaxed against his body, her head falling on his shoulder, Sherlock's eyes snapped open.

He felt it.

Felt the pain Moriarty had been talking about.

A firestorm flared inside his heart, burning everything. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. He couldn't feel. All his nerves were being burned as the fire spread through his veins. His body started shaking and he felt how he lost control. The fire consumed his logical mind and he was left with this overwhelming feeling of loss.

_Molly! _

Sherlock started fidgeting again, trying to free his hands. A noise escaped from his lips that he had never heard before. It was pain and desperation.

Suddenly, his hands were free. He didn't notice how John had kneeled down next to him to open the handcuffs. All Sherlock could see and feel was Molly.

Finally, after all those wasted years, Sherlock wrapped his arms around the small frame that had been Molly Hooper. He pressed her tightly to his chest, some part of him still hoping that she would hug him back. When she didn't, his vision blurred. Desperate, he buried his head in her neck as the tears fell. He could still smell her sweet, pure scent that was all her and nothing else. How many times did it fill his nostrils without him appreciating it? So many, many times…

Sherlock didn't know why, but he started rocking back and forth while his body was cramping until the first, loud sob escaped his lips.

Never had Sherlock experienced anything like this. Moriarty had been right. It was like an overdose, too overwhelming to control, too intense to think clearly.

As Sherlock held her close, he let his long, slender fingers run through her hair, never stopping rocking.

How brave she had been. For him. Because she had loved him. He had known. He knew that she had known that he had. Never had she said anything. Never had she demanded him to love her back…

Never would she know that he had…

God, how much he loved her! It hurt so much to hold her limp body, still feeling her warmth and drowning in her scent like she was just sleeping.

…But she wasn't.

Another sob echoed through the room.

_Why, Molly? Why didn't you tell me to love you? I asked so much of you! Why didn't you ask this of me? _

_I would have. _

_I would have…_

_I did…_

_I do…_

_And now you're gone, leaving me behind with nothing left but your empty shell in my arms. _

_Is this your way of punishing me? _

_Punishing me for not knowing my own heart? For not understanding that it whispered your name with every beat? _

_You're a cruel woman, Molly Hooper! A cruel, cruel woman!_

_Come back at once! _

_Come back and let me tell you how I feel! _

_Let me look into your big brown eyes, let me see your cheeks blush and your lips smile. _

_Let me kiss you! _

_Did you know I never kissed a girl before? _

_You should have been the first and only girl I kiss. _

_But now I can't because you sacrificed yourself to protect me. _

_As if you're life wasn't as worthy as mine. _

_Foolish, foolish Molly! _

_Molly…_

_My Molly…_

With his eyes closed, he lifted his head until his lips were touching her ear. Even now, he hesitated, the lectures of his brother echoing through his mind. But he owed her this much. And it was the painful truth:

"I love you" he whispered breathlessly, hoping that she could still hear him.

Hoping that those words, whispered way too late, would give her comfort wherever she would go.

~oOOo~

"Sherlock" John whispered. He still kneeled next to his friend. Sherlock had buried his face in Molly's neck again. One arm was wrapped around her back and one hand was placed in her neck, gently stroking her skin with his thumb. It broke John's heart to see him like this. He hadn't known that Sherlock felt like this for Molly and he wasn't sure if Sherlock had known until now that it was too late.

"She's gone, Sherlock."

It hurt to tell him and John's own tears were still swimming in his eyes.

Carefully, John tried to pull Molly's body away from him, when Sherlock's grip tightened.

His heart ached with sympathy and love for his best friend.

"Sherlock" he called him again, laying one hand on his shoulder. He was his friend. He had to tell him.

"Molly's dead, Sherlock."

The tall man flinched like he had been slapped. Finally, he looked up, his eyes puffy and red from crying, his blue irises sparkling in contrast. Those eyes roamed over Molly's face as he carefully tilted her head back. It fell limply against his hand and John felt another pain in his heart. It wasn't right, he thought. She didn't deserve this…Neither of them did…

"She's dead, John" Sherlock whispered, repeating his words. He said it so full of longing that John had to suppress a sob.

"Yes."

"I loved her."

John couldn't speak, so he squeezed his shoulder.

"I loved her and I didn't even know."

This was tragedy. Finally, one person had been able to reach his heart and now that Sherlock understood, he would never know how it felt to love and be loved in return.

"There are some people here to carry her upstairs. You have to let go of her."

Sherlock's head rose, scanning the room. It was full of police staff, medical staff and Lestrade, who was standing several feet away from him, still holding his gun, watching him, eyes wet. He saw how Moriarty's body was bagged and zipped close, catching a last glimpse of those black, crazy eyes. He looked at him, still wearing a smile, telling him 'I told you so'.

Sherlock looked down on Molly again. The thought of having her put in one of those bags was inacceptable.

"Help me to get up" he commanded and John willingly obliged. He wanted to pull Molly out of Sherlock's arms, but he pulled her close against him, glaring up at him. John understood.

So he helped Sherlock to get on his feet. In a graceful movement he lifted Molly on his arms. Her head fell back and John gently placed it against Sherlock's chest.

_Where it had belonged from the start_, John thought sadly.

With his head held high, Sherlock walked past the people in the server room, not looking at one of them. He didn't care that they could see the tears on his white skin. Those tears had been shed for her. She deserved those tears.  
His lips were pressed together as he carried her all the way to the morgue. With every step, his nerves calmed down. His logical mind started working again, telling him that this was farewell.

He gently laid her down on one of the examination tables, careful that her head didn't bang on the cold metal.

Sherlock's fingers lingered in her silky hair before his hand cupped her face. John saw how his lips twitched into a short, sad smile.

"You may have won, Molly. But I lost. Moriarty…he burnt my heart out of me. Just like he had promised."

His deep, full voice echoed through the room and John watched in awe as Sherlock bent down, closed his eyes and placed his lips on hers. Never had he seen anything so sad, so bittersweet.

Sherlock looked down at her one last time, his thumb stroking over her cheek.

"My first and only kiss. It's yours."

John felt tears burning in his eyes again as he heard him whisper those words. There he was. The man behind all those strong walls that had been built around him. It had needed a maniac and a death to bring him to the surface. With one last stroke of her face, Sherlock straightened up. One deep breath, one last look.

"Goodbye, Molly Hooper."

Then he let go of her hand he had been holding the whole time and turned around.

"Let's go" he said to John and rushed past him. John looked after him, watched how he walked in his usual, energetic manner. He didn't look back.

John turned around and stepped to the examination table, looking down on that wonderful, quiet, strong woman. Another tear run down his cheek.

"Thank you, Molly."

He wanted to say more, something more meaningful and deeper than that. But he didn't come up with anything but this and a heartfelt smile.

"Thank you!"

~oOOo~

A/N: So, let the hatemails come! ;) Seriously, I hope some of you can still like it in the bittersweet way I intended it.  
I gave up hope that Sherlolly will ever happen in the show and IF, I think that it would probably happen like this, Sherlock realizing his feelings when it's too late. I dunno, sometimes I have the feeling that Moffat/Gattiss can be cruel like that. :( Ah, the feels! *sob*


End file.
